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“[I]Little man[/I],” Zekha repeated in a mocking higher pitched tone. “Thank you for your cutting wit and razor keen insight, for I had surely not heard that before. Thanks in advance for providing the shade if we ever depart on Tattooine or Jakku. My frail, tiny body doesn’t do the sun so well. See what I did there? I mocked your height, because that’s something that you’ve obviously never had pointed out to you, Woosie.” The Dug replied dryly, clambering up onto the table to inspect the components that were laid out with care. It was a hot mess.

“Looks like I take better care of my tools than you do. You’re not seriously planning on reassembling this and trying it out, are you?” He asked skeptically, looking over at the Twi’lek skeptically from across the table. “If your fuel cell exploded, it almost certainly damaged the combustion chamber and it is not worth the risk of tempting fate if there’s micro fractures in the pack’s casing. All a jump pack is is a device that contains a hell of a violent explosion and farts it out as propulsion, enough to lift someone of [I]your[/I] mass. What do you think happens when the carefully engineered components that ensures that the propulsion goes out where it needs to has a deformity or non-uniform stress points?” He asked, putting his two forward hands together and expanding them away from one another, “The same damn thing that happens to a damaged hyper drive that suddenly offers a way to ventilate all that pressure. Best case scenario, it all gets released out of one end that’s not your back and you fly around like an uncontrollable idiot until your fuel is consumed, worst case scenario, well… let’s just say I ain’t picking up the mess.” 

Noticing the container behind Woo’Rah, Zekha moved over to where she was seated, ignoring the towering blue bitch to confirm what he thought he spied from his perch on the table, detonation caps. “Well, this explains a lot.” He said, not asking permission to pick up a few odds and ends to look them over, more of a very pointed form of disrespect of touching another tinkerer’s gear without permission than any real proficiencies with explosives. Even he knew that most explosives were designed to be stable until the detonator created the exact environment for them to fulfill their glorious purpose, and unless Woosie was a total idiot, she wouldn’t leave a bunch of volatile bomb casings laying around with about as much security as a library’s non-fiction section. 

“I’ll tell you what; you stick to demolitions and I’ll stick to fixing things properly so you don’t die ironically by turning your jump pack into another bomb. Compensate me for my time and effort and I will work up a parts list of the things that absolutely cannot be repaired and need to be replaced with new components to ensure that doesn’t happen. For a bit extra, I’ll even pick up the parts and slap the thing together for you.” He offered, carefully placing the explosive components back in their containment.